


Support

by tastewithouttalent



Category: Eyeshield 21
Genre: Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Extremely Dubious Consent, Face Punching, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Nosebleed, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Imbalance, Twincest, Twins, Verbal Humiliation, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-16 04:01:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2255115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Unsui’s bleeding before he realizes Agon is going to hit him." Unsui decided to be the support for his brother, and he follows that to its ultimate conclusion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Support

Unsui’s bleeding before he realizes Agon is going to hit him.

He didn’t even know his brother was in the bedroom. He was thinking about training, replaying the too-slow pattern of his steps during the last hour, acknowledging his lack of stamina and contemplating adding another training session to pick up the slack. His eyes aren’t even in focus yet, the door is still swinging open, when there’s an impact with the side of his face, hard enough that he goes stumbling sideways. His lingering hold on the handle is the only thing that lets him catch his weight, that saves him from falling entirely in that first pre-pain shock. He’s still stumbling for his footing when fingers close on his shirt, drag him bodily off his feet and pull his hand free of the makeshift support.

Unsui knows who it is as soon as his head has caught up from the first blinding shock. He doesn’t need the tell of the strength in the fist dragging him sideways, doesn’t need the dark of long dreadlocks in his periphery, doesn’t need the growling taunt of “ _Unko-chan_ ” to know who it is. If he had been paying attention he would have known before he opened the door with the preternatural awareness he sometimes has for Agon, some deep-rooted self-preservation telling him to run.

He never listens.

This time Agon shoves him onto the bed, which is better than the alternative. Unsui doesn’t have his balance; he would have fallen heavily against the wall or the dresser or the desk, at least the bed is a relatively forgiving surface for the impact. That means Agon’s not really angry, just bored and picking a fight even though he knows Unsui won’t pick up the other end.

“How did you like practice?” When Unsui looks up Agon is standing in front of the light, deliberately silhouetting himself into a shadow haloed in gold. Unsui looks down and away, instinctive submission to the silent demand from that figure, brings a hand up to swipe at his nose. His skin comes away stained red and wet; it’s not a surprise, he can taste the blood touching the back of his throat as well as smearing over his lips, but it does mean they’re going to get blood on the sheets again.

“It was fine,” he says without looking up. He doesn’t have to see to know when Agon moves; the shift in the shadow over his face would tell the story for anyone, even if Unsui weren’t feeling the echo of movement as if he’s borrowing Agon’s skin, as if he can predict what his twin will do so every motion is deja vu. He’s turning into the pull before Agon’s fingers have closed on his shoulder, twisting over onto his stomach in anticipation of the other’s shove, and the preemptive obedience makes Agon laugh, sharp-edged sincerity in the other’s throat.

“You need it,” he says, as if Unsui needs reminding, as if there’s any way this line of attack could even draw blood anymore. This is an old wound, so scarred-over there’s nothing but numb under Agon’s attack, nothing but the pattern of habit as Agon shoves Unsui’s shirt up over his back, as Unsui arches his hips up so he can hook his own thumbs over the top of his shorts and push them off his hips. “Practice is the only way you’re able to even pretend to keep up with me.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” Unsui says evenly. He sounds calm, if somewhat congested from the continuing slow bleed of his nose. It might be clotting but that just makes it worse, he can’t breathe except from his mouth now. “I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”

Agon’s fingers tense on his back, scratch sideways and close hard on Unsui’s hip, clenching into pain, into bruising, so hard Unsui thinks he might be drawing blood.

“I don’t  _need_  anything from you,” he hisses, and Unsui should really have seen that coming, but he’s gasping in animal incoherence under the flaring agony of Agon’s fingers and he can’t formulate a response. Agon keeps his hold for a long, breathless moment; then he lets his hold go, Unsui sobs a gasp of relief even as the blood rushing back to the bruised skin brings a surge of burning pain with it. His hands have stalled in their motion, anticipation of what Agon wants insufficient to override the reflexive stillness of shocked pain, and while Unsui is still catching a breath Agon’s fingers close on his shorts, drag them free of his hold and down to his knees in a motion so fast the elastic catches and burns Unsui’s skin.

“Don’t forget,” he cautions. His hands leave for a moment, there’s a rustle of fabric as he pulls his shirt up and off; Unsui doesn’t turn around; he knows Agon’s body by heart now, knows how his brother’s shoulders look when he reaches up over his head to shed his clothes and how Agon’s long hair falls heavy over his suntanned skin, and he has bigger priorities. He knows what’s coming, knows where they’re going and knows that Agon certainly isn’t going to pause in his advance unless there’s no inconvenience to him at all. So he slides forward over the bed, stretches for the drawer where the bottle of lube is until he can close his fingers on it, and Agon lets him get his hold on it before the other’s hands are against his hips, dragging him backwards over the sheets until his legs hit Agon’s knees.

Unsui doesn’t protest. He’s never protested, not once, not even the first time, and he’s certainly not going to start now. He made his decision years ago, knew exactly what he was giving up when he decided to be Agon’s tool, understood the implications of embracing his inevitable second-place position. He can hear Agon sucking his fingers wet and slick with saliva, can just catch the purring almost-laugh at the back of Agon’s throat, and he is grateful, as he is always grateful, for the flash of reaction in his blood, the shivering anticipation that burns him with heat as much as humiliation as Agon’s hand shoves his leg aside, as Agon’s fingers catch and start to force into him.

It makes it easier, that he  _wants_  it.

“You like this,” Agon observes, echoing Unsui’s thoughts as he so often does. He’s not being gentle, he’s not being kind, and Unsui can’t catch his breath and has no response anyway. “You  _love_  being under me, Unko-chan.” The name is a mockery of affection, twists saccharine and taunting, but his fingers are thrusting deeper and Unsui’s starting to shake, his hands trying to make fists of the sheets even though he can’t get purchase. Agon’s not gentle but Agon  _knows_ , Agon knows Unsui’s body better than Unsui does himself, and he angles his hand down just as he sinks in the last inch, shoves his fingers in with pinpoint accuracy, and Unsui’s shoulders jerk, his cock twitches against the bed, and he chokes on a half-strangled moan.

“Say you like it,” Agon orders, even though his words hold no doubt at all. “Tell me how much you love getting fucked by me, Unko-chan.”

Unsui opens his mouth, submission too strong to even consider resistance, and Agon draws his fingers back, shoves them back in so hard Unsui’s words crack apart into another raw sound, desperate and pleading even though he doesn’t know what he’s pleading for.

“Tell me,” Agon says again. He’s dragging Unsui’s hips up higher, working his fingers inside the other with that same vicious efficiency, and when he reaches around Unsui whines in a breath of anticipation before fingers close on him, the grip too-tight but still better than no contact at all.

“I love it,” Unsui says, in that first rush of shaking appreciation of Agon’s touch. Agon draws his hand back, thrusts back in quick like he’s pushing a button for more, and Unsui groans and buries his face against the bed. “I love it when you fuck me, I love it when you jerk me off, I love --”

“When I hit you,” Agon prompts, and Unsui nods, desperate under the pressure of the other boy’s fingers inside him and the suggestion of the unmoving hold around him.

“When you hit me, when you  _notice_  me,” and that’s too much, Unsui knows that’s too much truth even before Agon hisses and does stroke over him, fast and hard so his words fall short into silence.

“When I  _fuck_  you,” Agon says again, slower, like he’s spelling out a lesson for an idiotic child or dragging a pet back onto the right path. “You  _like_  it,  _tell_  me.”

“I like it,” Unsui gasps. “I like it when you fuck me, Agon.”

“Your  _brother_.”

“My brother.”

“Your  _twin_.”

Unsui groans, shivers against the bed. Agon’s moving faster, he thinks, or his sense of time is stretching out of shape under the pressure of the other’s movements. “My twin.”

“Because I’m  _better_  than you.”

“Yes.” That’s easy, that’s no admission at all. “Because you’re better than me.”

“ _Good_.” Agon jerks his fingers free, so fast Unsui gasps at the loss. He’s grabbing at the bottle still clutched in Unsui’s fingers before the other can even think to offer it, letting his hold go entirely for a moment so the only contact is his knees digging sharp against the back of Unsui’s thighs. Unsui gasps for air, tries to brace himself even though he knows it’ll be useless, knows there won’t be any coherency left for him in a minute no matter what he does. He can hear the zipper of Agon’s jeans, the wet slick of the lube between skin and skin, and anticipation is chilling him into panic and excitement until he can’t move, can’t think and can’t do anything but shut his eyes and shake against the sheets.

The fingers that drag against his scalp make Unsui jump, startled by the touch itself as much as by the lube-slick chill of it. Agon’s free hand braces at his hips, Unsui can feel the head of the other’s cock pressing against him while fingertips dig in against his head, reaching for purchase they can’t quite get.

“Fucking baldie,” Agon hisses, and the irritation in his tone, the angry tension in his fingers, is enough to warn Unsui of what’s about to happen, to give him a moment to suck in a desperate breath before Agon thrusts forward, shoves into him so hard Unsui’s vision flashes blank and white for a moment. “If you had  _hair_  I’d have something to hold you with.”

“Sorry,” Unsui gasps.

“No you’re not.” Agon shoves his face against the mattress, lets his head go entirely and reaches back around to close his fingers around Unsui’s length. He’s moving smoothly, pounding out a rhythm that’s too fast for Unsui to ride out, too much to give him any leeway at all. “You’d have longer hair if you were really sorry.” The stroke of his hand is punctuation rather than pleasure but it’s still sensation, still enough to jolt down Unsui’s spine and send him convulsing against the mattress. Agon is barely touching him, almost just holding him steady rather than jerking him off, but that selfish rhythm is rushing Unsui’s body to the finish line as fast as Agon can go, faster than Unsui can manage alone. His heart is pounding, stuttering out-of-rhythm and breathless and Unsui can’t speak, can’t move and can’t muster coherency at all, but Agon fits into him even better this way than his fingers did, like Unsui was shaped specifically for his twin’s benefit.

“You feel good,” Agon says, stealing the words direct from Unsui’s shattered thought process and giving them their own voice. He moves faster, strokes over the other’s length again, and this time when Unsui starts to shake he’s not sure he can stop. “Maybe this is what you’re supposed to do with your life, exist just for me to use you when I want.” His hand moves again, draws another involuntary shudder from Unsui, and Unsui’s vision starts to blur out of focus while Agon’s words go soft from lack of attention, wash over him like the rush of sensation in his skin. “So few people get to do what they were  _meant_  to do, you’re so  _lucky_ , Unko-chan.” Agon’s hand is moving, slow and idle, but Unsui’s trembling himself into a rhythm of his own, his breathing is closing off entirely. He chokes on an inhale, he can see pleasure coming for him, there’s no chance to hold it back -- and Agon’s fingers slide down, close around the base of his cock, cut off the inevitable and Unsui’s breathing at the same time.

“ _No_ ,” and he’s furious, his voice is grating into darkness and shadows and rage. “Not before me, Unko-chan,  _not_  alone, you come with me or not at all.”

Unsui can’t breathe. His throat is tight around the moan of pleasure that  _wants_  to break free, that he can feel shimmering just barely out of reach, just behind the impossible pressure of Agon’s fingers; the blood on his face has gone sticky and dry, has seeped a dark stain into the sheets, and he can’t care, he doesn’t care about anything except that Agon let him  _go_.

“ _Please_ ,” he manages, choking on the one word like it’s an entire speech instead of a few syllables. “ _Agon, please_.”

“Please  _what_?” Agon says, sharp and insistent. It takes Unsui a minute, his thoughts are hazy and blurred until it’s hard to parse what the other is looking for. But then it comes into focus, and of course he knows, he’s known his whole life which of them is first.

“Please come,” and it’s broken, it’s a wail and a plea and shattered all around sincerity. “Come in me, Agon,  _please_  I want you to.”

Agon makes a sound, a laugh formed on the fringes of a moan, and his fingers go tighter around Unsui, just for a moment. Then he thrusts forward, one and twice in impossibly quick succession, and Unsui would swear that rapidfire sensation does it, washes hot through him and sends him groaning into orgasm even before Agon lets him go. The heat of Agon pulsing inside him is lost, drowned out along with all Unsui’s self-awareness in the shuddering, endless wave of pleasure that overtakes him. It’s the only time Unsui is ever selfish, the only time he ever forgets about Agon entirely, in these brief moments when the demands of his body finally override the calculations of his head and there is nothing at all but the warmth.

Agon pulls away too soon, while Unsui is still panting to catch his breath and regain his bearings. By the time Unsui thinks enough to roll over onto his back, Agon’s on his feet, pulling his jeans back into place and looking down instead of at the other.

“Clean up,” he says, still looking at his clothes. “You’re fucking filthy, it’s disgusting.”

Unsui is sure someone else would be offended. But this is familiar too, more comfort than hurt at this point, and he’s still languid and trembling with aftershocks, until even the mess over the sheets and across his skin isn’t enough to quell the faint smile at his lips.

He can’t see Agon’s expression to see if he’s smiling or not. He doesn’t need to.


End file.
